Off yet again . . . . .

So in about 4.5 hours I'll get into Verena's car and head to the airport for my next crazy trip. This time it's a 6:30am flight to Rome, wait around Rome all day (with baggage) until Gisela arrives, catch the next train north to Assisi and spend a very relaxed Saturday and Sunday chilling (or sweating!) in Assisi. I am so excited about that part!! Then it's back down to Rome to meet up with Paul and Amber and Ruby in our flat in Rome where we'll be living for the week while we pretend to attend International SBL. There are a number of museums, gelato and pizza places and churches I intend to visit - as well as cafes to sit in front of for hours! I am so excited to be able to wear T-shirts and tank tops and skirts... I hope it doesn't suddenly go chill there, because I don't really have warm clothes at all with me... A few layers, that's it... Seriously, it'll be fine! Then from Rome I fly on the following Monday to Cambridge to attend the Tyndale Fellowship meeting. After giving my second paper in 4 days (Saturday, Tuesday), and enjoying the rest of that conference, Thursday I will then catch an Easy Jet flight back to Scotland, where I will promptly return to work in the shop. =) I'm excited about the whole intinerary.

But the last week has been lovely, too, and I wanted to catch a bit of it up before I left! Saturday we were heading into the longest day of the year, so I 'convinced' Verena to head down to Pittenweem to spend some time outside -- particularly as the weather has been nice! We arrived down in Pittenweem around 9:30pm with plenty of light with which to make our way down the coastal path.

Pittenweem harbour

Pittenweem harbour looking out toward the Isle of May

Arriving in St Monans around 10pm, marked by the windmill

Forgive the slated photo - the fence post I was using wasn't as level as I'd thought - but I liked how I caught the lighthouse lit up on the Isle of May (next to it are the lights from a ship)

We lay in the grass in a little park by St Monans for a good hour and a half, chatting and watching the clouds change shape, and sometime around 11:30 finally headed back to Pittenweem and the car.

Night had pretty well fallen by the time we arrived back, even though we never needed the headlamps we brought with us on the path. I don't know if this photo makes it look slightly darker than it was out, since we weren't using our lamps, but I thought it was a cool shot of the Pittenweem harbour late at night!

Monday was a gloriously warm day (I think it reached all of 75F!), but when Verena came home from the nursery, I made the mistake of commenting to her that I was surprised she wasn't off swimming in the sea. Well, that got the idea in her mind, and some 30 surprised minutes later, I was off heading toward the East Sands in my swimsuit, watching clouds gather and wondering why I'd opened my big mouth. We painfully waded into the frigid water - a process that took probably a good 30 minutes alone, and even after I was fully immersed my various extremities (and even the skin on the tops of my shoulders) kept aching... It was an experience in whinging for an hour straight. Still, uniquely fun. It took most of the rest of the evening for me to warm back up, hot shower and all!

Wednesday we were inspired to host a bbq in our carpark, an idea we'd been tossing around for a while but waiting for warm enough weather. We ended up with a clearing in the haar, so we went for it with Paul and Amber (and Ruby!)'s help. Paul grilled, Verena invited 3 other friends, and the seven of us sat around for a good 4 hours or so in the carpark, drinking gin and tonic, eating good grilled food - kebabs, burgers, and weird "authentic frankfurter flavoured" vegie franks. It's one of the first time in ages that I felt relaxed! I think that had to do with deciding my papers were done and I was ready to head into vacation.

So that's me off, then. May blog during trip, but not taking the camera cord so photos will only be on my return. But really, I'm kind of anticipating being pretty internet-free during these two weeks! Yay! (leaving my computer behind too!) YAY! bye...

And it's back up

Ok, apparently they'd re-done their website, so the problem (thankfully) was not with my particular page. They have track of the one donation that went through, so if you've tried and not succeeded, feel free to try again here without worry that it will double charge you!

Thanks for your patience!

hmmm, charity issues...

Several people have let me know that they've had some problems with the justgiving website, while at least one person seems to have gotten through with no problem. Please let me know if you have problems so I can bring it to their attention - as it is I haven't had an explanation yet for the problems.... I don't think it's with my page, but I'm not entirely sure... oh dear...

Officially in the run

Well, it's official. I just signed up for the half-marathon in October. Unlike so many other activities I've dabbled in, this one apparently is actually pulling together and becoming a reality! It looks like there will be at least 4 of us heading down the mountain together: Ross, Paul, Amber and I have all plotted this activity together now and I know Ross is also registered already.

Please consider sponsoring me here at Just Giving. All the info is there, but just to make it easy, here is what I wrote about the why and wherefore of doing this:

I'll be doing my first ever "real" run this October in the Aviemore Highland Half-Marathon. In the last 4 years, while working toward my PhD, I have also slowly (and somewhat painfully) become a runner. This run, occurring right around the time I hope to submit my thesis, will in many ways be the physical culmination of 4 years of hard (mental) work.

Personally, this run will be in honor of my dad who, despite a long illness, always worked to stay fit and who dearly loved the outdoors and passed that love on to his kids. The run is scheduled almost exactly a year from the day he finally lost his battle with his illness. I know he would be incredibly proud of me for attempting this.

Pragmatically, I am raising funds to help people with disabilities have a chance to enjoy the outdoors. As the website states, "All proceeds from this event will go to the Speyside Trust, a small; independent registered Scottish Charity, providing respite care and outdoor activity holidays for children and adults with special needs." I would dearly love to leave the £50 minimum in the dust!

Making pancakes...

Verena didn't have the best of days yesterday, so this morning when I got up I thought, "I know, I'll make her breakfast! It'll be splendid, she'll come down from her shower to fresh berry-filled pancakes and everything will be so cheery!"

Except, that's not exactly how things went. Instead it was more your stereotypical "kids make breakfast for mom and mom looks at kitchen and sincerely wishes kids would have stayed in bed longer" type of event.

Well, maybe not that horrible, but close.

It started out ok - I'd showered and dressed and gone downstairs to begin my nefarious plan when I heard Verena head into the bathroom. So far, so good - that meant I had about 30 minutes till all needed done. So I made some coffee and decided to water some plants, too, just to test out adding a mid-week watering to some that don't seem to be appreciating the once-a-week care they get from me. Except that one of the plants apparently rejected (and has been rejecting) all water (which might explain why it's looking unhealthy). The water all came pouring out over the base and under the stereo -- which already had a puddle under it. Hmmm... I went and collected a towel, set it under the stereo, and continued on my way.

Next up, the kitchen. I'd been under orders not to wash up last night's dishes, but I did a few (with a guilty conscience) because they were in my way. Then I pulled out a bowl and the scales, measured out the flour into the bowl, opened the cupboard to get the baking powder out... and managed to drop a container just large enough, hollow enough, and heavy enough to tip the bowl of flour off the scales, catch flour in it and dump that all over the floor as it fell, and scatter flour from the bowl all over the stove. And I mean all over, including over - and under - the cast iron griddle pan I'd already set out in preparation. I just stood there for a bit.

At this point I hear Verena come out of the bathroom and realize I have about 5 minutes left until my Grand Plan is about to be discovered. Out comes the dustpan (after ruling out that a washcloth is not going to be adequate), flour is generally brushed off and then wiped down a bit with the washcloth, then serious mixing and cooking commences. Verena appears as the first pancake (small, tester) with blueberries goes onto the griddle.

Breakfast went fine from there, although I think I'd like a different recipe for American pancakes. For one, preferably one that doesn't involve scales and weighing out flour! I guess for Verena this morning was a double bonus, really. She got breakfast of pancakes with blueberries and/or raspberries in them, AND she got to laugh at me for being inept. =D

Pondering churches...

I was asked recently about my church history and it got me thinking about it a bit differently than I ever have. I suppose, looked at it one way it looks like I've been very inconsistent. I grew up Conservative Baptist, I attended a Grace Covenant in undergrad, I ended up on staff at Scum of the Earth in Denver, and now I'm Anglican. How exactly does that work? (By the way, this post grew rather longer than I expected and I think it's more for my own thoughts than necessarily for reading... Sorry!)

For one answer, I don't really know. I suppose part of my flexibility comes from growing up with a father who himself grew up Egyptian Coptic. Ruling out other denominations as "less Christian" was just not part of the picture. Granted, he came to know Christ personally from the Baptist world, and so obviously felt a tie there. But he always recognized his mother's absolutely genuine faith which was cultivated in the Coptic church, so there could be no pride of denomination. Maybe that's why I'm "flexible" denominationally?

Maybe it just has to do with being raised to be flexible by both my parents. Maybe it has to do with growing up in a very living church and so having a high standard for what I look for in churches each time I move. Maybe it's the after effect of very international parents. Maybe it's just personal curiosity.

In undergrad I started going to Grace Covenant in Charlotte partly because the pastor was father to a fellow IVCF student. Even after he graduated, Darren (the father) was very involved with Davidson's IVCF, bbut by then I was already committed. And once I pick a church it's pretty hard to uproot me! But I loved the mission of upper-middle-class doctors and lawyers who committed to a church on the wrong side of the tracks near their neighborhoods rather than commuting to their comfortable peers. By the time I left I was participating in their mentoring program for the local children, meeting weekly with troubled little 6th-grade too-old-for-herself Adriana. ("I'm half like you" she said one week in disgust, noting that one of her parents was white. "Well," I replied, "I'm half African (cheating a bit and using my Egyptian father!), so does that make us equal?")

I went home for a year and was instantly at home back at my church, helping with the youth group and settling back in.

But then I moved to Denver and had the odd-fortune of sitting next to Mike Sares in my 1 Corinthians class: "You were in Greece last spring? I'm Greek! I think you should come to Scum. When we preach through 1 Corinthians I'll have you do the sermon on women in ministry." Huh? I'd just moved there and had no intention of coming to a place named "Scum." None. Yet some 3 years later that pronouncement of his came true! It was a wildcard church for me - so far outside my comfort zone and yet a place I loved passionately. They took seriously the call to feed the hungry, care for the rejected of society, and remain faithful to the Word of God.

I miss Scum. I have no words for how alive your faith feels when every day you're on the edge like that, when every day you're begging God to give you wisdom, patience, love, understanding, etc., while experiencing intense joy from living outside of yourself. While not fully "fitting in," I had a place and a purpose at Scum, and that's a gift I have to say.

But my life moved me onward, overseas -- and I'd been wanting to live overseas again! But St Andrews is far too small a place to have a place like Scum. Glasgow? Yes. St Andrews? No. =( I thought about going to the town Presbyterian church, but frankly I'm not particularly Presbyterian. There's a bit too much Arminian (not complete, just too much) to be comfortable there. The Baptist church meets a good mile out of town, a logistic that just didn't mesh well with my need to get places by foot here. The *other* Anglican church made me sneeze the first time I visited it with their incense. And Bob, well, Bob was friendly, remembered my name, and I just liked him -- so St Andrews, St Andrews it was. He was the rector who got me involved in acolyting. I told him I wanted to get more involved with the church and he set me up for doing that -- consistently checking in to see how a Baptist felt inside the robes! ("If it feels anathema, then we'll find another option!") I have to admit that, with him leaving nearly 2 years ago and then being gone so much of last year, I've a bit lost my footing in my church, a problem only compounded by knowing I'll be leaving in another year.

But I've loved learning in a higher church. I have found I love the routine of liturgy and appreciate that, even when I'm late I can recite the opening lines as I walk and still enter into the worship as I arrive. I appreciate the candles. I love the weekly Eucharist. I even didn't mind the robes!

But when I go home, well, that's my home church. If someone challenged me now, I've realized, I'd still have to say I'm Conservative Baptist. (I still can't make the jump to infant baptism!) But beyond that, I just am shaped by the church I grew up in and it does inform my theology -- conscious or no. So, perhaps it's fitting that I am still a member of my home church. They supported financially me when I worked for Scum, the people support me now as friends as I work my way through the PhD process. Sometimes it's good to reflect and realize where your roots are -- how you've changed, where your journey has taken you -- but where, at the end of the day, your grounding is.

'cyanide and happiness' on running

Given my pride in yesterday's run, I thought this was a fitting bit of synchronicity:

Practically running

Today was my first Big Run. More on that later.

First up: today was also a day of open artists studios in Fife -- 30 artists around fife opened up their studios this weekend for people to come, browse, buy, chat, etc. Verena had found out about it and decided we ought to go, so we picked a few whose samples and descriptions sounded interesting and off we tootled. We ended up visiting four very different studios -- one that did prints in a very stylistic manner that were delightful, one that did a slightly impressionistic style of oil paintings generally of landscapes (she was one chatty lady!), one that did fairly precise figure drawings and wildly abstract pastels, and one that did very precise oil landscapes. Verena found something to like in all four, I particularly liked the first and last (unsurprising!). But potentially we might go back tomorrow to the last two for her to purchase a very abstract drawing and me to purchase a very realistic painting of the Isle of May.... Very different, but would be fun to have both in the house! Need to look at funds first...

Then we came back home for me to eat something before The Run. Actually, it was quite fun! As I left the flat to meet Ross over out of town at his work, my ankle first twinged, then one of my quad muscles started acting up and I just thought, "great, this is all going wrong!" But as I got running it all eased in. It was maybe a 10min run out to his work, we met up and jogged over to the bike path - so I had a head start running on him (usually he runs in to town to meet me, so it's all fair!)... But we found a pace and when we hit the bike path he started the timer. Exactly 31minutes later we crossed the bridge at Guardbridge approximately 4 miles away. I made us walk for the return across the bridge but then realized I was feeling fine so might as well get running again, and at 1:03, we were back at the lamp post where he'd started the timer - approximately 8 miles total. We jogged a little farther to get back to town, then I struggled to remember the muscle coordination to walk again as we walked up into town from the Old Course.

I am amazed. For one, this speaks to the ability of a non-runner to pick up running just by consistency over several years of keeping at it. For another, though, this speaks highly of the efficacy of interval training. Even two months ago I wouldn't have been able to do this, or even if I had somehow found the strength to do it I would have been badly out of breath and struggling with my heartrate, but as it was my heartrate really never got raised and we chatted there and back with minimal difficulty. The impact of interval training has made a huge difference for me!

My knees are a bit woozy this evening and I have a blister on one foot, but Verena is having a hard time really feeling sympathic for me. I think there's a bit too much truth to the fact that this is entirely self-inflicted for her to have a great deal of empathy! =) Fair enough, I kind of have to agree! She did feed me risotto that she made, though, which was very yum, and even bought an extra loaf of garlic bread for me to eat while she was cooking... What a good flatmate. =)

Dreams of running

I've never been a runner. Never. I did sprinting in track in highschool, and before that I got into jumping and did what I could to specialize in triple jump -- requiring a minimal sprint before you flung yourself into a convoluted series of jumps (which of course meant that I spent every track practice sitting by the jump pit pondering the complexities of triple jump and watching the runners pass by).

I remember when I was living in CO, whenever things got too stressful or my emotions were too high for whatever reason, I just wished I were a runner because I felt like the only satisfactory release for my emotions would to go pounding the pavement for miles on end, till everything blurred into sweat, breathing, and the internal shock of each next step. I dreamed of it, but the reality was that I was pleased with myself if I managed to run more than 3 minutes at a time. (I used biking, hiking, or rollerblading as my stress-relief.) A friend who had noted that I was naturally athletic mocked me when I said I couldn't run until I reminded him of how pleased I was when I ran for the entire length of a Greenday song. Naturally athletic, perhaps. Runner? Never.

But living here, ages ago I posted about starting to go "wogging" with friends, a combination of walking and jogging. The reality was that probably the emphasis was on the walking... We did well, though, and that got the ball rolling I think. Our wogging group broke up as people left but I kept at it -- largely because it's really the main form of exercise available in this town. Slowly, because I'm a harsh task-mistress for myself, the wogging turned more and more into actual runs - generally anywhere from 2-3 miles, with walking built in, but I kept going. This March I finally got bold enough to be willing to go for a run with a "real" runner, Nina's fiancé Ross. And thus I met intervals in a serious fashion. Well, Ross and I have been doing interval training pretty faithfully every Saturday since then and I'll still go for one or two other runs during the week, and I think now I have to concede that I am becoming a runner. This Saturday the goal is the approximately 8-9 mile run from St Andrews to Guardbridge and back. Just to see if I can do it. I haven't run anything longer than 5 miles, so I'm just curious.

All this, though, has got me thinking. And that's a bad thing, because thinking leads to craziness. And the craziness is? The Aviemore Highland Half Marathon in October. Ross has decided to go for it with me, Amber and Paul have already done it once but are considering doing it again, Vicki's Ryan (who came for his first run with Ross and me this afternoon) might consider it... See? I shouldn't be allowed to get inspired to feats of insanity -- but at least I bring others along with me! Ross will be helping me proactively train for it - my goal has been simply stolen from Amber and Paul and is to hit under 2hours (approx 9min miles). Ross is aiming for something suicidal like 1:25 or something. I'll be somewhere way behind him.

But I'm planning to do it for charity - I just have to find out if I can choose my own charity or if it has to be theirs, but regardless I might as well do my self-torture for charity! I'll keep you all informed as I go...

Sometimes...

Sometimes you have to wonder. Yesterday I had a phone interview for a job for which I would dearly love to be considered as a serious candidate. It was to be a Skype video interview. Knowing Skype, one of the main prayer requests I sent out was that Skype behave. It didn't. 10 minutes or so into the interview, it crashed and refused to come online again. Then my mobile wouldn't pick up their call. I ended up running outside to see if it would work better, then having to dash back inside once the call came through, by which time I was flustered and out of breath. Instead of being able to see their faces and have that visual feedback, we ended up on the phone. Bummer. And then it's easy to wonder why? Why me, why that interview, why couldn't it have just worked in my favor?

But then I think, well, at least I did get to see their faces at the start - it was easier for having seen their smiles and getting their initial visual feedback to me - I could still picture them all later when we were just on the phone, know who was asking me a question, etc. So I can be grateful that Skype at least started by working. And really, I'm not sure it threw me out all that much - somehow I was raised to be able to shift gears relatively easily (not sure if it's innate, rather think it was forced into me!) -- what if another person they were interviewing that way wouldn't have been able to handle the shift of media? In the end, it was fine for me -- one way or another I had at least made it to this stage with a school that is a very high aim for me! I got to thinking, it could have been worse. What if my mobile never had gotten reception? What if we hadn't been able to message back and forth during the period of trying to connect and I lost the whole interview? What if it had been a hostile committee rather than one I genuinely felt wanted the best experience for me? Really, it could have been far worse.

All that to say, I have no idea why Skype didn't work. It's just one of those things. I'm just glad it started by working!

A Brief Theologizing...

So, if someone were to ask me point blank, I'd probably say I leaned on the side of Arminianism. To put it at its most painfully simple as I understand it, I do think salvation is by God's grace but we have to accept it and live accordingly, and therefore it is also possible by our choices/actions to opt out. Thus, unlike some, I hold humans to be part of the whole salvation dance in some mysterious way (and that it is, at least theoretically, possible to lose one's salvation. Theoretically at least. I also think that if one has truly tasted of God's grace, one wouldn't want out, somewhere along the lines of the ungrateful servant of Matthew 18).

Anyway, why do I bring this up? Because I equally, if confusedly, hold with God's sovereignty. I firmly believe that if God wants a situation to be, it will be. I am a case in point: I never sought this life, but God wrought it anyway -- not to say I'm ungrateful! -- just that if I had had my way, this probably wouldn't have been it. Not better, just different.

So, confused, schizophrenic theologian that I am, I firmly believe that I am responsible for my actions and that God brings about his desired results (sometimes letting us, in the short term at least, thwart him though). I say this because I have a couple big things looming in the next month, starting this week. Neither of them will I post here, but suffice it to say I want to do my absolute best and so am nervous, but oddly enough am then comforting myself with God's sovereignty.

So here's where my theology hits the road and leaves the categorization behind for practicality's sake (both sides would probably claim the following statement!): I am responsible for doing my very best, but God is responsible for the outcome once I've done my best. If the answers that come back are no, then (assuming I've done my part) this is not to be. All the same, I'd appreciate prayer from this week all the way through a month from today's date. I need strength, clarity, endurance, focus, and diligence. It's going to be a long month.

And through it all I simply ask that I glorify God.

Oh yeah....

..... that's my old supervisor!! I'm so proud, in a smug sort of "I got to study under him" way.....

Sun in St Andrews!

This past week has been actually SUNNY. Even, occasionally (when the wind slowed as it did yesterday), WARM! I have to tell you, after last year's non-existent summer (I walked on the beach in shorts one day last summer, ONE!), this has felt amazing.

The problem with this sort of weather is that I instantly revert to my Western NY upbringing (pretty equivalent to a Scottish upbringing in this sense, I imagine) which says: "if it's sunny, go outside!" So outside I went, ignoring the fact that really the work I was supposed to be doing was at my computer. I couldn't sit inside at my computer when it was so so so gorgeous and warm and sunny and beautiful! So I picked up a book by my potential external examiner -- a book I need to read for inclusion in my thesis anyway, not merely to schmooze him -- and sat outside as much as possible on Saturday and yesterday. Yesterday, despite the fact that I dug around and found my sunscreen (a first for Scotland for me), I still have a sunburn. But I find I don't mind. It's a real sunburn, not the fake "my face is burned but the rest of me would still glow under a blacklight" burn. Thankfully I know my skin well enough that as soon as I realized I was burning I came inside and it's not a bad burn, just the sort that given a day will turn into a lovely base tan -- removing that glowy-white look. So I am happy.

But I'm also secretly happy that today is cooler and clouded over -- simply because I can work at my computer without frustration!